


Demeaning

by WaitingForLove7



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, Injured Rafa, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:45:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitingForLove7/pseuds/WaitingForLove7
Summary: Rafael Nadal fights through an injury at the US Open to make his way to the final. There awaits Roger Federer who is oblivious to the Spaniard's condition. Rafa will never let Roger know that he might, just possibly, be better than him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and give me your opinion!

Rafa groaned as he pushed through the locker room door. His bag was thrown carelessly to the side and an empty water bottle fell out of it.    
  
He made his way to the center of the room and laid down on the bench   
  
The match had been tough and he had injured himself early in the first set. Rafa had been urged by his coach to forfeit, but he wouldn't let Roger play an easy match in the final. That is if Roger wins his next match, which he will.    
  
He had let out a sharp cry when pain shot up from his left ankle and through his knee to his hip.    
  
It was a hard fall and everyone watching had visibly cringed, but they had winched even more when the Spaniard got up and pretended to be uninjured. Still winning after five long sets, Rafa wondered if it had been worth it.    
  
Rafa was now determined to keep up his facade during the press conference and show Roger that he shouldn't be underestimated.    
  
Clenching his teeth together, Rafa pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled his shoes and socks off. He ran his left hand through his hair and looked down at his ankle. Swollen. He wouldn't be able to hide it from his couch and uncle, but he could keep it from the press.    
  
Standing up, he let out a whine and fell against the lockers, emitting a loud bang. He needed to shower first, then find a way to walk without showing his pain.    
  
Stumbling and hopping to the nearest shower, Rafa turned on the hot water. He cringed and slid down the shower wall as hot water steamed the air.    
  
Shouldn't push yourself too hard today, his coach had said. Had he listened? No, he always has to play 110%.    
  
A whine escaped his mouth as he wrapped his right hand around his left ankle.    
  
Rafa curled up on his side and held his hand over his face, urging himself not to cry.    
  
He always knew that he should sit out when injured, but how could he just give Roger the final match?    
  
He couldn't.   
  
Rafa slowly pulled off his now soaked shirt and rubbed it over his face. He felt the hot water burning his back but did nothing to stop it.    
  
Laying his head on the tiles, he thought about his next match. Roger has been playing his best this tournament, and now that Rafa is injured, he doesn't think he can even put up a fight.    
  
Rafa bit down on his shirt when a surge of pain shot up his leg and a tear fell down his face.    
  
_ The press conference _ , he thought.  _ I am going to be late.  _   
  
Rafa pulled himself up on his right leg and gently placed his left foot on the ground.    
  
He turned off the water, not caring that he never even washed off. Then, he hobbled out to the bench. His wet clothes were stuffed into the bottom of his bag and he changed into sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt.    
  
After pulling his socks on and tying his shoes, Rafa took a deep breath.    
  
_ I can't let them know _ , he thought and stood up slowly.    
  
An embarrassingly high pitched shriek came out of his mouth and he fell back onto the bench. Cussing quietly, Rafa wrapped his hands around his left knee.    
  
Pulling his pant leg up, his swollen ankle was red and his knee was starting to look bigger as well. Chewing on his lip, Rafa pushed the pant leg back down and sighed.    
  
_ Why did I keep playing? _ He finally stood back up, only on his right leg, and hopped over to the door. Pulling it open he heard voices down the hall.   
  
"No, I'll hurry, then we can work out the dates for the match."   
  
_ Roger? _   
  
"Okay, great. Any ideas on who you want to play for it?"    
  
"Novak and Stan. I might ask Rafa if he's feeling up to it."   
  
_ Feeling up to it? Of course, I am! I don't want Roger to think he's more fit than I am.  _   
  
"I better go change for my match later."   
  
Rafa's eyes widened as he realized Roger needed to come into the locker room. He quickly turned and picked up his bag and planted both feet on the ground.    
  
He practiced a smile to cover up his pain and turned to open the door. He could see Roger walked down the hall and he started walking down the hall away from him.    
  
"Rafa?" He turned back and smiled at Roger.    
  
"Oh, hey Roger, I have the press meeting. I see you later," Rafa gave him a smile and continued on down the hall without limping.    
  
Roger looked on and watched Rafa disappear into the room for the press conference. He sighed in relief as he saw Rafa was walking perfectly fine.  _ I guess he wasn't really injured, _ Roger thought and went to change.


	2. Chapter 2

Rafa's eye twitched in annoyance as light flooded into his hotel room. He had collapsed onto the bed the previous night without bothering to close the blinds or even change clothes.    
  
He yawned and pulled the covers over his head.    
  
_ Practice, _ he thought and groaned.    
  
_ The final... Tomorrow... _   
  
Rafa threw the covers to the end of the bed and rubbed his eyes. Looking down, he could see that his ankle was not as swollen, but he was still concerned about the next day's match.    
  
Sighing, Rafa sat up with his legs hanging off the bed. He rubbed at his knee and winced.    
  
_ Hurts,  _ he frowned.    
  
He remembered a few things about the day before. Smiling at the press, watching some of Roger’s match, and limping back to the hotel.    
  
Standing up, he clenched his teeth together as a small bit of pain shot through his leg. Pulling his shirt up, he looked down at his hip. It was a pink color showing that it had gotten hurt as well.

Rafa hopped over to the dresser and pulled out his clothes for practice. He remembered the officials saying that they could have a private practice court if they walked past the regular courts. He decided that would be best and no one would be there to see his condition. 

“How am I going to do this?” Rafa mumbled after changing into his practice shorts. 

He pulled a bandage out of his bag to wrap his knee and found another for his ankle. His shoe was tight and the wrap made it obvious that he shouldn’t even be walking. 

Pulling his shirt over his head, Rafa groaned as he realized how sore he was from his last match. His arms were tight and his stomach ached. His pink Nike shirt was pulled on and he ran his fingers through his hair before tying on a bandana.

_ Can’t turn back now, _ he thought and walked out the door with his bag. 

After finding the driver that was hired to chauffeur him around New York, Rafa asked to be taken to the private courts. 

Upon arriving, he signed his name to show that he had been there and noticed that Roger had checked in earlier that morning.

_ Six o’clock? That’s when I should have arrived. I’m only just now getting here and it’s already noon.  _

Rafa sighed and walked down the path between the courts. He could see someone sitting on a bench a few courts down and determined that it was Roger.

_ I should keep my distance,  _ he thought and chose the first court.  _ Now I don’t have as far to go to the restrooms. _

Setting his bag down, Rafa collapsed on the bench. Although he had not done much, he was already exhausted from his short trip. 

Looking through several layers of fencing, he watched Roger stand and start practicing his serves. 

_ I don't stand a chance against him. I can't even win when I'm in top form.  _

Rafa subconsciously wiped away a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead and grabbed his water. The bottle was quickly emptied and he grasped his temples with his left hand as a headache suddenly appeared. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there but started rubbing his eyes when he began to feel tired.

“Rafa?” Rafa gasped and sat up as he realized Roger had approached him. 

“Oh, Rogelio! I did not see you,” Rafa paused as he forced a small smile on his face. “I cannot wait for the match tomorrow.”

“Yeah, did you just get here?” Roger asked and adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. 

“Yes, I slept too long I guess.”

Roger looked down at Rafa’s ankle and knee only to see them covered by sweatpants. 

“I’m going to head out to lunch now, would you like to come?” Roger smiled nodded towards the parking lot.

“I think I should start practicing, maybe next time?” Rafa gave a weak smile and pulled down the zipper of his practice bag. 

“That’s fine, maybe we can play a quick set?” Roger smiled and put his bag down next to Rafa.

Rafa felt his heart drop to his stomach as he realized he had made a mistake in hiding his injury from everyone.  _ What was I thinking? I can’t play a match, I definitely can’t play against Rogelio. _

“Maybe lunch is a good idea!” Rafa forced a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “I skipped breakfast anyway!”

“Oh, okay. Are you sure?” Roger asked while noticing Rafa’s strange behavior. 

“Yes, back to the hotel for the lunch, right?” Rafa zipped and grabbed his bag and stood slowly. 

“Yeah,” Roger nodded and turned to start walking back to his car. 

Roger quietly observed the Spaniard as he realized he was trying to hide something from him. 

“So, Rafa. I have been planning a match for my foundation and was wondering if you would be willing to play in it?” Roger asked as they arrived at his car. The back seat door was opened and the two players put their bags in.

“Well, when is it? I will do my best to help if I can,” Rafa avoided looking at Roger as he fell into the passenger seat. 

“I haven’t chosen a specific date yet but it will be after the next tournament.”

“Okay, I can try,” they fell into silence as Roger meandered through the streets of New York and Rafa subconsciously rubbed at his left knee.

This did not go unnoticed by Roger but he chose to stay silent about his suspicions. 

“That was a tough match you had the other day, I thought when you fell that you would be out of the match,” Roger stated and looked to Rafa.

Rafa shrugged and Roger thought he saw a wince when he did it. 

“I was fine, just a little surprised,” Rafa pursed his lips and looked out the window. 

“That’s good! I have been hoping to play you in a final for some time,” Roger pulled into a garage attached to the hotel and parked close to the door. 

Rafa merely nodded as he pulled himself out of the car with a small noise escaping his lips. Yes, Roger was definitely convinced there was something wrong.

After getting their bags, Rafa suddenly stopped before they got inside the hotel.

“I forgot I have a meeting with my manager! Another time, Rogelio?” Rafa asked before escaping into the hotel without waiting for an answer. 

Roger mumbled a startled “sure” and walked in after him. Looking down a hall to the right, Roger watched Rafa disappear into the restroom. Not a moment later did the sound of the door locking resound throughout the hall. 

Curious about why Rafa had lied and run off, Roger approached the door but couldn’t hear anything inside. 

Inside Rafa slid down the door to the floor and covered his face with his hands. He whimpered as he fell to the side, his hip arguing and the rest of his leg in pain. 

Rafa took deep breaths as he heard someone, most likely Roger, walking down the hall. A few minutes later, the person disappeared and Rafa let out a breath that ended in a low moan. 

“I can’t do this,” Rafa whispered to himself with a tear falling down his face. 


End file.
